Majestic. That is the only word that came to mind as I strode toward my seat on the ramparts of the Water Works Restaurant and Lounge.

I could hear crickets chirping along the pathway leading to the historic pumphouse complex, its stately colonnades standing sentry high over the Schuylkill's banks. It was so peaceful as we settled at our table on the terrace, it was as if dusk had dimmed the lights on a bucolic glimpse of the city as I'd never known it.

The incandescent silhouette of Boathouse Row shimmered in the distance. The orange streak of highway traffic and the silvery line of rolling trains threaded the horizon with the glinting pulse of modern life. But from this vantage, you could also feel our history flow beneath us. You could gaze upon the cascading waterfall below and -

THWACK-A!-THWACK-A!-THWACK-A!-THWACK-A!

The blinding glare of searchlights raked across our table as police and news helicopters suddenly descended. In the river beside us, a sightseeing boat had just run aground. And the whirlybirds had come to hover - their concussive drone thumping down upon our table - for nearly the duration of our meal as the rescue took its time unfolding.

You could say it was not a stellar night for the Schuylkill's budding tourist trade. Not for the boaters. But that wasn't the restaurant's fault. Unfortunately, it was not a banner night for diners, either.

The menu offers an appealing contemporary montage - part Greek, in deference to owner Michael Karloutsos' roots; part Mexican, to reflect chef Adan Trinidad's heritage. The young kitchen struggled, though, with the details necessary to realize its vivid ambitions.

Throughout my meals, both on the terrace and inside, simply getting food hot was a big challenge. The thick slices of seared tuna were nearly cold (even the cooked part). Both the steak and the rack of lamb were tepid. The black bass and duck were overcooked. An osso bucco special had been reheated under the broiler to a charcoal-black crisp. The lobster bisque came with a dark heat-lamp crust floating on top.

I would have enjoyed those dishes had they been more carefully done. But at $24 to $32 an entree, it's hard to sympathize. Although the Water Works, more than most new restaurants, practically begs for such patience.

The mere reopening of this historic space as a restaurant, after a quarter-century hiatus plagued by fire, flood, and the political quagmire of the Fairmount Parks Commission, should be cause for celebration. And I'm prepared to heap praise upon Karloutsos for succeeding where others failed, pouring $3.5 million into a grand renovation that tastefully updates the building's neoclassical spirit.

Karloutsos, a career politico and former chief of staff to Philadelphia schools CEO Paul Vallas, did a surprisingly nice job designing the restaurant himself, dressing it in unfettered elegance that lets the space speak for itself. The vaulted ivory main dining room, the former engine house, has been gilded with a water wall and crystal chandeliers that illuminate like a Christmas tree when the setting sun is at its reddest peak. A glassed-in front porch and a side breezeway with romantic semicircular booths on the way to the cozy bar each have a river view that is magical when the moonlight glows.

But running a restaurant as big and visible as this one (180 seats in all) requires more than political savvy and a nice decorating touch. A manager with the experience of Ed Doherty (ex-Capital Grille) is essential. It was painfully obvious when Doherty was absent, leaving Karloutsos' partner and brother-in-law, Leonidos Agonastos, to give tableside wine consultations tinged with the reek of his Monte Cristo cigars.

Inexperience was most obvious, though, in the kitchen's efforts. The best dishes were clever updates on simple Greek home classics. Tender lamb meatballs lolled around a silky swirl of pureed eggplant and smoky tomato coulis. A cube of marvelously creamy Dodoni feta cheese, baked in a pool of oregano-scented broth, came topped with a sweet crust of roasted red peppers. The grilled octopus was admirably tender.

The 24-year-old Trinidad, a veteran of El Vez, Olive and La Campagne, delivered some Mexican inspirations that showed an undeniable raw talent - dishes such as seared watermelon scattered with feta and mint, or the whole Thai red snapper splashed with sour orange mojo.

But a litany of technical goofs held him back from completely realizing his vision. The sweet potatoes with the duck were speed-whipped gluey in the Robot Coupe. Overmixed crabcakes were sticky inside, but also filled with the distracting crunch of undercooked vegetables. Citrus-cured salmon was so undercured it was tasteless. Too much sweet vanilla made the butter-poached lobster taste like candied crustacean. An oyster trio delivered a duo of issues - too much breading on the fried oyster, and a lack of proper chill on the raw one - but a sprightly apple-mint puree with the oyster shooter redeemed the dish.

The restaurant's young pastry chef, Chad Durkin, offered some of our meals' highlights, from the superb house-churned ice creams (dulce de leche, rum raisin), to more elaborate compositions, including the classic financier topped with vivid strawberry-basil sorbet.

Dessert also marked the blessed departure of the helicopters and a momentary return to peace. But as we savored the quiet, a large river rodent scurried brazenly from the shadows into the terrace light, where it nosed around for crumbs.

"Hey, that's not a chipmunk!" said my guest.

"Oh my God!" shrieked the waitress, who was standing beside us. "I'll go get someone!"

She slunk back 10 minutes later, but not with a broom, a manager - or even an apology. She reported that co-owner Agonastos had simply shrugged: " 'What can I do? It's getting cold and they want to come in.' "

Doherty, who was not present, was mortified when I later described the incident, insisting it was the first he'd heard of vermin, though his staff later confirmed sightings to him. The Schuylkill's creatures can't always be controlled, he said. But a restaurant's response is key. Doherty said he immediately dispatched extermination crews and set about devising ways to keep them out.

"I would do also everything in my power to apologize and make it right," he said.

The Water Works is worth making right and I'm hopeful it will become the majestic destination it deserves to be. But - I will take a table inside.